Treasure Chest
by Lynyrd Lionheart
Summary: Collection of Captain Swan oneshots. Ranging from pure fluff to angst. Chapters 5 - 15 are a mass upload from the past 6 months.
1. Not Just Where You Lay Your Head

**AN: So, because I am starting to write more and more CS fic, I've decided to start posting everything I write for the ship from here on out in this fic. For the first one, have some pure CS fluff.**

 **Not Just Where You Lay Your Head**

 _Home._

It was such a simple thing, yet Emma Swan had been searching for it for her whole life. Searching aimlessly, thinking for brief moments she had found it – the Swans, Ingrid, Neal – but never had it stuck.

Not until big, bright eyes and _are you Emma Swan?_

Looking back, she would have never guessed then, meeting her son for the very first time, that her life was about to change irrevocably. That Henry would take her from Boston, straight to the place she belonged.

 _I was hoping it would be you._

Blue eyes and a wicked smirk that reminded her of days gone by, and not knowing if it was nostalgia, or if she should trust him.

When she walked away… how could she have suspected then what Killian would someday become to her?

Mary Margaret had once warned her that her walls would keep out love, and at the time Emma had argued, because protecting herself was more important than a potential love, wasn't it?

Emma looked in the mirror and remembered how bitter she had been then, how scared and guarded. And how far she had come.

"You look beautiful."

She met her father's eyes in the mirror, and his smile held something like awe. Emma got to her feet and turned to look at him. The dress was far, far… _puffier_ than what Emma would have expected to wear. It was truly a gown fit for a princess.

A gown fit for a _bride_.

"He let you go long enough to come and see me?" Emma asked, smiling at David and letting him take her hands. He smirked at her comment and gave her a little spin. It came more naturally now, than it had all those months ago, when Killian was teaching her to waltz in the Enchanted Forest.

They'd had more opportunities to practice, and Emma thought she was getting quite good at it.

"Henry stopped by and took over groom duty," David replied with a chuckle, but his expression was more serious when she came to face him again. "As your father, I would like to tell you that if you want to run, I'm here to help you with that."

"Oh?" Emma smirked at that. "And as Killian's… _mate_."

"He's right. You are horrible at that accent. But as his _friend_ … well, it's my job to tell you that you're really too good for him and should let your father help you run away."

Emma smiled. She had been smiling since she woke up that morning, alone in bed and missing Killian's warm form next to her, having grown used to his presence ever since the first time he had joined her in bed. But Mary Margaret had insisted on at least _one_ bow to tradition, and Killian, old man that he was, had seemed to be somewhat relieved at Emma's acquiescence.

"Are you nervous?" David asked as Emma turned from him again, looking in the mirror to make sure everything was still in place.

She considered the question. _Was she nervous?_ She had expected to be terrified. She'd thought she would need Henry there to remind her about true love and how it conquered everything. She'd thought she would be double and triple guessing herself.

But she wasn't.

She was eager, excited. She was…

"I'm ready," she said, turning to David, and she was smiling again, but this time there was something more in her expression, something that turned it from happy to breathtaking. "I'm so beyond ready for this."

Words she had never thought she would say, not when taking the leap into commitment.

"Then I guess it's time."

David offered her his arm, and she accepted it.

It was time to marry her pirate.

HOME

Killian fidgeted and glanced at the clock again. Five after two. They had set the time for two. She was late.

 _What if she decided she didn't want to go through with it? What if she was already running?_

And God, he hoped not. Didn't she know that if she decided against this, decided to run, then he would accept it… as long as he could run with her. He was a pirate. He didn't need vows in front of the Cricket. All he needed was _her_.

"It's normal for the bride to be late," Henry murmured behind him, playing the role of best man, because Dave was to give away the bride. He'd been proud when Killian had asked him to fill the role, although he'd warned him that if he hurt his mom, asking him to be the best man wouldn't stop him from learning how to use a sword just to gut him. "Calm down, Killian."

Killian would have made a droll comment back, except that the doors at the back of the church had opened. Snow White came out first, matron of honor for her daughter. They'd kept the bridal party small – simply Henry and Emma's mother – so as soon as she reached the front, Snow turned to the back of the hall, and Killian looked as well.

He was shook to his very toes.

She looked so… _radiant_. She had eschewed the traditional veil of the realm in favor of a tiara given to her by her mother, leaving Killian free to see her face the entire time she walked to him. He knew her gown was beautiful, but he paid it hardly any mind. His attention was all for her face, for her eyes, which were glued to his. Everything else in the world vanished, narrowing down until it was just _them_.

All of Killian's nerves disappeared, because there was no doubt in her expression – just happiness. She was ready for this. He was _beyond_ ready for this.

All there was, was to get the vows done with, and then they could begin their lives together.

"You clean up well," Emma murmured when he took her hands from her father. "Although I like the vest. A little bit of pirate among all the royal."

Killian knew she probably expected a smooth, flirtatious response. But all of his cocky words and arrogance had left him. All there was, was _her_ , and she was just so incredibly…

"You're beautiful, Swan," he told her solemnly. Her smile softened, and she reached up to touch his cheek. He turned his face into her hand, kissing the center of her palm. "So bloody breathtaking."

The Cricket took that moment to give a light cough, drawing the attention of bride and groom and reminding them that they were, in fact, at a wedding. _Their_ wedding.

Saying that he couldn't remember the ceremony, that all he could remember was her face, and the sound of her voice when she repeated the vows… perhaps it was a cliché, but it was also the truth. It was all a blur of words and promises, until they were making their way down the aisle, and Killian's heart was so full of love that he couldn't stop himself.

He picked her up, making her let out an exclamation of surprise, and whirled her in a circle, until they came to a halt, both laughing, and he leaned down and kissed her, not caring that the entire population of the town was standing at the steps of the church watching them, or that it eschewed tradition.

"You remember what I told you about home?" Emma asked him when they broke apart, her hands on his face, and both of them grinning at each other like fools.

"That when you leave, you miss it," he replied, echoing words spoken so long ago, because of course he remembered. He remembered everything she had ever told him.

"You're my home, Killian Jones."

He didn't know what to say at first, just swallowed thickly and kissed her again. When they broke apart once more to the sound of clapping and wolf whistles, he rested his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes closed and reveling in the feel of her in his arms.

"You're my home, too."

 **AN: And there you go. Like I said, pure fluff. The story title comes from the song** _ **Home**_ **by Gabrielle Aplin, which is CS through and through, as well as being incredibly pretty, and you should all go listen to it. Let me know what you think of this, and stay tuned for more one shots.**


	2. You're Losing Your Memory Now

**AN: A request from Tumblr for the last scene of the finale in Killian's pov. Some angst, to make up for the pure fluff of the last one.**

 **You're Losing Your Memory Now**

For a moment, he held happiness in his arms.

She had tackled him to the bed, tangled their fingers together, and Killian had laughed, because Emma's giggle was music to his ears, and he was still alive. They were _both_ still alive.

She had almost said it then – he knew she had almost said it then – but she hadn't quite had the words. And that was okay. They had a lifetime together, to say the words.

For a moment, he allowed himself to believe that was true – that they had a lifetime.

She was warm against his side as he teased her father, and her head was nestled against his neck, and there it was, his whole world held in his arms, and his heart was full of love.

He allowed himself to believe it was okay, even when Belle came and told them the Dark One's fate. They sealed the darkness in the hat, and he thought it would mean it was done. The Dark One gone, the Crocodile unable to do any more harm.

He should have known better.

He _did_ know better, now.

But he allowed himself to believe – _to foolishly believe_ – that happiness was in his grasp ( _it was in his grasp_ ), right until the darkness surrounded Regina. Until it began to consume the good she had finally managed to accrue. And that's when Killian knew.

Because he knew his Swan.

"What's it doing?" Robin shouted, clearly uncertain what to do, as he hovered between running for Regina, and maintaining his distance.

"What darkness does," Emma replied, and Killian stood froze, not wanting to think of what came next. But Emma looked at Regina, and he knew that look. "It's snuffing out the light."

"I'm not gonna let it."

Robin ran forward, determination eliminating fear, as he went for the woman he loved, only to be violently rejected, tossed back by the darkness.

"That's not gonna work on this thing! The apprentice told me, we have to do what the sorcerer did. We have to tether it to a person to contain it."

And his Swan, his fearless Swan, ran forward, the Crocodile's dagger in her hand, and Killian _hated_ it. He hated the way the light glint off its edge, he hated the way he knew what would come next, because that dagger had never meant a single good thing for him, not in the three hundred years he'd known of its existence.

"Emma! No! There has to be another way."

They could all hear the pain in Regina's voice, and it was a testament to how far she had come, that she would even say the words… but Killian just wanted Emma to _listen_ to her. He didn't care, that it would mean losing Regina to the darkness, because… because…

"There isn't. You worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed."

Emma pulled back her arm, and it took just a quick glance at the prince, to know that he and Snow White had finally caught up, that they realized now what their daughter meant to do, and what it would mean.

"No!" the prince yelled, and Killian felt everything in him screaming, too.

"You figured out how to take the darkness out of me once. You need to do it again. As heroes," Emma's eyes glinted with tears as she looked at them, and was it just a short hour ago that Killian had held happiness in his arms? That he'd thought he could have forever with her, forever to hear the words, to say the words that were stamped on his heart, on everything he was and ever would be?

"Emma!" He ran to her, one last chance to plead his case – to plead for _them_ – even though he knew it wouldn't work. It wouldn't work because she was his Swan, and wasn't it one of the reasons he loved her so damn much, because she would forever fight for others? She was everything good that he thought he would never find again, but now it would be the very things he loved so much that would have him lose her now, but maybe… maybe if he could just hold her again, if he could just clutch tight enough, she wouldn't… she wouldn't… "Emma, please. No, don't do this."

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and it reminded him so much of when he had gone to her before the spell of shattered sight – _I don't do tearful good-bye kisses… but maybe just this once_ – when he had thought he would never see her again, because the Crocodile had his heart and he was living on borrowed time. This time, she didn't pull him down for a kiss that tasted like tears and desperation. Instead, she grabbed his hand and pulled it to rest over heart, and he leaned down so their foreheads touched. In that brief moment, a split second, he allowed himself to believe it would be okay again. That he would get through to her, and they would find another way –

"I love you," the words were said so simply they almost didn't comprehend them at first. But when they did, he felt his heart break. The words she had been so close to saying, when they were still happy, and he was thinking of forever, and now they were spoken through tears as a good-bye.

Then, she put her hand on his shoulder, and pushed him away, and he stumbled back, righting himself just in time to see her thrust the dagger into the dark swirl around Regina.

"No."

She looked at him, as the darkness moved itself from the Queen, allowing her to stumble to Robin Hood, and instead swirled around her. Her hair swirled and whipped violently, and never once did she look away from him. Killian tried to move forward again, but the swirling darkness grew and grew, until he could no longer see Emma, no matter how desperately he searched.

Higher… higher…

Gone.

As suddenly as it appeared, the darkness vanished, and so did Emma, the sound of metal clattering to cement echoing in the silent night that now surrounded them.

Killian stared and took a single stumbling step forward, and then another, until he was staring at the dagger, streetlights glinting on the surface. He fell to his knees next to it, heard the Prince and Snow join him, but he paid them no mind.

The dagger had never meant anything good in three hundred years.

Now it had taken the only good thing he'd managed to find himself, proof of its crime etched onto the glinting surface.

 _Emma Swan._

 **AN: Let me know what you think ;)**


	3. Picture Perfect

**AN: An AU prompt from Tumblr for CS as a celebrity and paparazzi photographer. It's super light hearted. I need to get back in my CS angst groove. I'm losing my touch.**

 **Picture Perfect**

"I don't suppose I could convince you not to post those?"

Emma held out a handful of napkins and gave a wry grin at the man that accepted them. He was ridiculously good looking – all messy black hair and brilliant blue eyes and scruff – even if he was covered in frothy white Frappuccino from his chest to his waistline.

Killian Jones was a feast for the eyes, even when he wasn't at his best, and Emma looked down at her camera to check the pictures. She caught him mid fall _and_ in the aftermath, and they would make the perfect addition to some gossp rag's _They're Just Like Us!_ column.

"Sorry," she told him, content with how the pictures looked. "But a girl's gotta eat."

Jones sighed and then looked forlornly at his now empty cup. He had gotten the worst of the mess off of him with the napkins, but there was no magical way to replace the drink that he'd lost. Emma quirked her head and bit back a grin at the look, because it was all sorts of _lost puppy_ and not at all what she would have expected from Hollywood's bad boy. He was, dare she say it, almost _cute_.

"Look, I can't delete the pictures," she said, drawing his gaze to her. "But I _can_ replace the coffee for you. There's a Starbucks every block around here."

"Well now, I'm not a cheap date, Love," his grin was every bit as charming as the forlorn expression had been, and Emma had to bite her lip to avoid giving him a cheesy smile back. She was used to being around celebrities daily – all part of the job – but this _was_ the first time she'd ever offered to buy one a drink. "I'll at least need your name. That way I know which magazine to look at, to see the spectacular proof of my lack of graces."

"It's Emma," she said after a moment, where she debated giving a fake name, because if he didn't know who she was, it was a hell of a lot more difficult to sue.

"Well, Emma, I'm Killian."

He offered his hand with a bit of a flourish that made her laugh despite herself, and his grip was strong and warm.

"I know who you are," she informed him, looking up into his eyes and wondering if there maybe wasn't some truth in those romance novels she hoarded in her room where Henry couldn't find them. Because she swore that for a second, the only people that existed in the world were them.

Of course, that was cheesy, and Emma wasn't fond of cheesy, so she cleared her throat and averted her gaze, and gave her hand a tug, because he was still holding it. He jolted and released his grip, and Emma used her hand to hold onto her camera strap.

"So… that coffee?"

He gave her an odd look – quirked head, thoughtful smirk, and something she couldn't quite place in his eyes. But he nodded.

"Of course, Lass. Lead the way."

Emma took off, and she had to give Jones points, because when she lead him off the beaten path and away from the typical streets someone in her, or his, line of work haunted… well, all he did was give a considering hum and then follow right at her heels.

"You have some guts," she told him over her shoulder. "For all you know, I could be an axe murderer."

"I think I could take you," Jones replied with an assurance that had her raising a brow and letting out a huff.

"Don't count on it, Buddy. You couldn't handle it."

She wasn't sure, but she thought he might have muttered, _but I would certainly like to_ try _._ And it made her have to bite back a chuckle as she lead him around one more corner until she reached her favorite Starbucks.

"All this walk for just another Starbucks?" he asked her, a warm presence at her side. She gave him a tight lipped grin.

"Oh, it's not just _any_ Starbucks. This place makes the best double blended chocolate mint Frappuccino's in town. And trust me, I know my caffeine. I tend to drink a lot of it."

"Staking out in front of celebrity's houses?" Jones asked, that brow of his seeming to be permanently raised. Maybe it was. Maybe he was in a state of permanent amusement.

Or maybe it was just _her_ , but either way she gave another shrug as they joined the short line for coffee.

"Hey, it pays the bills" – she gave her camera a tap and smirked at him – "these babies are going to pay my rent _and_ buy my kid a Nintendo 3DS for his birthday. So thanks."

"You are very welcome," Jones replied drolly, before giving her another considering look. "And your husband won't mind you buying me coffee? Even if it is just repayment for paying rent."

"Smooth," Emma told him with rolled eyes. "I mean, it's almost like you _weren't_ totally digging for my marital status."

"Some women would find such a thing charming," he offered with that boyish grin of his that made her have to look away, because it gave her butterflies, and Emma really didn't do butterflies.

"Some women just want you for your body," she replied, then tilted her head thoughtfully. "Possibly for the millions of dollars it's rumored you make off your movies."

"But not Emma-the-photographer?"

"Emma-the-photographer wants you for the rent payment," she gave him a saucy smirk that made him chuckle in return. "That's really the only reason why I'm buying you this, you know. I'm going for double or nothing."

It was flirting. It was a bit of a jolt for her to realize that, which she did when his arm rubbed against hers when he laughed again, and sent a jolt through her. This was flirting, and when was the last time Emma had _flirted_?

God… it was an embarrassing long time ago.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm going to switch up the order. Something that's a little less obvious on black. I have some pride" – they walked up to the counter together, and the girl at the register gaped when she recognized Killian, who shot her a wink that made Emma roll her eyes, because now the poor girl would never be able to do her job again. But she put in an order for her caramel Frappuccino, and Killian put in one for some drink she wasn't familiar with and an oatmeal fudge bar, and they ventured to the side to wait, where Killian continued their previous conversation – "but you never did answer me, about what your husband would think about this."

"Oh, he probably wouldn't be too happy." Normally, Emma would have left it there – a pretend husband to keep the guys away was never a _bad_ idea… except Killian had taken a bite out of his treat, and was licking his lips, and the thought of him thinking she was married? Somehow it wasn't appealing. "However, I'm not actually married, so my imaginary husband's feelings won't be hurt."

"Hmm," Killian hummed, and then held the bar to her. "Want some?"

Emma rarely said no to chocolate, so she accepted a quarter of the bar, nibbling on it while they watched their drinks being made.

"I hope this doesn't come as a surprise, since I've been attempting to be at my most charming this whole time, but I would rather like to take you out. On a date."

"The fact that you felt you had to quantify that worries me somewhat," Emma replied, stepping up to the counter and taking their drinks. She handed Killian's over, and surveyed him as she took a pull from her straw. "A date with you would involve being brought to the attention of people like me. I _know_ people like me, Killian. I _am_ me."

"So I am aware… that's why I asked."

"You didn't ask about my son. No husband, but the kid still exists."

"You pay the rent and buy him Nintendos for his birthday. I assume he's quite content. Are you trying to frighten me away, Emma?"

"Is it working?"

"Not in the least."

Another pull from her drink, and then a shrug.

"Sure. Why not. Call me with the details."

She headed for the door, and his voice made her pause.

"Your number, Love. It would be quite helpful."

She turned to give him an enigmatic grin and yet another shrug.

"I'm sure it would."

Then she left the café, and she was pretty sure that would be the end of it. Because getting a coffee with a celebrity had been nice, but Emma worked around his type daily. If they noticed her, it wasn't for long, and he'd be onto his next starlet by tomorrow.

Ah, c'est la vie or whatever. At least it had been a nice interlude.

(Her phone rang the next day at 10 with an unlisted number – and when she answered the phone, the first thing she heard was _Swan, is it? Fitting, somehow._

She still sold the pictures, but he never did move onto the next starlet.)

 **AN: And there you go. For anyone that isn't aware, I'm on Tumblr. You should follow me – lynyrdwrites – as I occasionally post drabbles that will never see the light of day here, and you don't want to miss that, do you?**


	4. It remind me of how it all went wrong

**AN: So, apparently at a con in Paris, Colin O'Donoghue said he suggested Hook stay dead until S5… now that put evil, evil thoughts into my mind, an thus this fic was born.**

 **It reminds me of how it all went wrong**

He is dead.

The thought echoes through her mind over and over again, until the words run into each other, and only one remains.

 _Deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead_

She had loved him. God, but she had loved him. It had started as attraction and grown into affection that eventually morphed into a love that touched her to her very soul, and now that soul was bereft.

Because Killian Jones was dead, and Emma Swan was expecting to continue living, despite his memory, despite knowing that he had died never hearing the words.

Knowing that her _father_ had killed him.

They had left her alone, David and Mary Margaret both, because despite her repeated thoughts – _It wasn't him, it was the Author, it wasn't_ him– when she looks at her father, all she sees is a knife in Killian's back, and the knowledge that she'll never see him again. He'll never give her that smile that makes butterflies erupt in her stomach, or touch in that way that's so soft, but that leaves fire in its wake.

She clutches her arms in a tight hug and sobs. The tears are ugly and she can't breathe, but she's not sure that she wants to. Not when she knows he's gone.

Her phone rings, but she ignores it. She has no interest in speaking to anyone, not right now. Not when Killian is dead, and there's not even a body to bury. She didn't even get the chance to kiss him one last time.

There is no true love solution to this, because there is no true love to kiss.

The sobs come harder at that, and she doesn't know that she's ever felt grief like this. There's a part of her, the part that made her shackle him to the top of a bean stalk, that fervently wishes she had never met him. Hope is a powerful thing, but it's powerfully painful when all the hope in the world is useless.

Her tears finally stop, not because the pain is gone, but simply because she has no more tears left. Not right now. So she just lies on her bed and stares blankly at the wall. There's a ship on top of book shelf, and it reminds her of the Jolly, so she gets to her feet and pulls it down, cradling it in her hands.

He loved that ship… but he loved her _more_ , and so he had sacrificed it.

When the ship hits the floor of the loft's lower level, the sound of snapping wood echoes across the empty apartment. Emma stares down, feeling nothing as she stares at the wreckage of the ship – there is no relief, but also no more grief. She's built up walls before, and maybe he crashed through them… but he's gone now. No one will break these ones, the ones she's rebuilt around her heart.

 _I'm a survivor_.

He was a _liar_. He had promised to survive, but he hadn't. He had died, and he had taken all the hope with him. Hope of love and a future… even hope of a family, because she still has Henry, but she knows she'll never be able to look at her parents and not see the light leaving Killian's eyes.

Her phone rings again, and she picks it up and simply looks at it. It's Regina, but she doesn't answer. When the noise finally stops, she sees the endless people that have tried to call her – Belle, Regina, her parents, Henry – so when the ringing begins once more, this time with Belle's number, she answers it.

"The Dark One has been released from Rumple," the brunette says in a hurry. "And we can't find it."

Another problem, another mission for the Savior to take on. The town is in danger again, and so Emma is being called on. She hangs up without acknowledging Belle. She considers dropping the phone as she had the ship and ignoring it all… but ignoring it all means staying here with her grief and memories, and her walls aren't yet strong enough, so she can feel the grief threatening to rise once more.

Another problem, another mission… perhaps this is what she needs. Time to remind herself of how dangerous this life is, and maybe when she can breathe again, it will hurt less, because time will have passed.

She meets them in the center of town – her parents, Regina and Robin. Mary Margaret holds the Dark One's dagger, and Emma takes it from her without looking at her parents.

"Where is it?" she asks Regina, who motions around them.

"Somewhere around us. I can feel it."

Emma can feel it, too. It's cold and malevolent, and _hungry_.

"It needs to be bound to an anchor," Mary Margaret says, and when Emma glances at her briefly, she can see the grief in her mother's eyes, and it's too much for her right now, so she looks away.

"An Anchor… the Dark One."

No one has a chance to reply, because the Darkness chooses that moment to strike, and its target is Regina. Robin shouts, an Regina is letting out pained whimpers.

It's frightening, this darkness. It swirls around Regina, and Emma meets her eyes. Regina, who has done such horrible things, but who is starting, step-by-step, to make up for them. Who has finally sound some semblance of happiness.

It's not fair, Emma finds herself thinking. That the darkness took someone with so much hope in their future, when Emma was right there, feeling as cold and empty as the Darkness that now seeks to feed.

Emma doesn't even think about her next action. The darkness is as empty as she feels, and she's supposed to be a hero, right? So when she steps forward and thrusts the dagger into the darkness, she doesn't fight it as it moves from Regina to her.

Instead, she welcomes it.

There is only one thought that makes her hesitate – _Henry_ – so she looks at Regina who has stumbled back from her.

"Take care of him," she says to the other woman, because Regina is in Robin's arms, and the connection between them is all but palpable, and that's what Henry deserves. A mother that's found a happy ending, that can shower him with love, and give him a family.

Emma is empty. Emma is adrift. Emma has lost too much, and now she can feel all those scars and open wounds being filled and mended with darkness, and she looks up and lets it, and then she laughs as the darkness swirls and twines with the darkest parts of her that shouldn't exist, but have come to develop on their own through a lifetime of abandonment and loss.

She closes her eyes, and on her eyelids, she sees laughing blue eyes, and remembers all the advice he had given her, of not letting darkness consume. She hasn't listened, because this consumption… she's welcomed it with open arms.

But he's right… it can cause so much pain, and for all that her memory of her parents will be eternally soaked in Killian's blood, the part of her that is still Emma knows she won't want to hurt them. So when she feels the darkness cleave itself to her magic, when she feels herself actually _become_ the Dark One, her first act of power is a simple one.

She disappears.

And across town in the loft, Killian Jones jolts awake. His hand clutches his chest, where a knife had come through and he looks around with wild eyes. It takes a few moments, for him to realize that he's alive, that it was all the Author's twisted version of events. He is fine, which means Emma and Henry were successful, and for a second he is filled with jubilation.

But just for a second, before the dread hits him. A darkness that stains his soul, and he knows there is only one thing that could cause that, because there's only one person that's written herself across his very being like that.

 _Emma_.

And something is horribly wrong.

 **AN: The moral of this story: just don't put angsty thoughts in my head. Because I will write them.**


	5. A Brother Thing

**A Brother Thing**

It's not that he actively searched for ways to embarrass his little brother.

(And even in the sanctuary of his own mind, Liam can imagine Killian's correction – _younger_ brother – and it makes him grin)

It's just… Liam hasn't seen Killian like this in ages, not since Milah, and he had despaired of his _little_ brother (complain all you want, Killian – but it will never change) ever truly returning to him. For the longest time after his first love had died, Killian had been so adrift…

And then Liam came home one day, and rather than finding Killian on the couch with a beer in hand staring blankly at the television, as he always did when he got home from work, he found his brother _drawing_ of all things.

"What are you working on?" Liam asked cautiously, approaching his brother at the table. Killian didn't respond at first, too busy carefully measuring out lines to scale for the map he was creating, his tongue caught between his lips. But Liam knew better than to assume that his brother hadn't heard him, so he simply waited for Killian to finish what he was doing.

"It's a map of the town," he replied, taking a step back to look at it critically. "I'm making it for a friend."

"A friend," Liam repeated, watching Killian closely as he made a careful adjustment. "David?"

As far as Liam knew, David was the only _friend_ that had shown himself to be true in the wake of Milah. When Killian had retreated, no longer fun loving and recklessly wild, the rest of his equally reckless crowd had abandoned him, leaving only Dave.

"No, Dave has no interest in these things," Killian replied dismissively. "It's for his sister. Her lad collects maps."

It was the first time Killian mentioned David's sister, and Liam had assumed it was a favor for his closest friend, and hadn't thought on the matter any further.

Until nearly two weeks later, when he heard movement in the kitchen and stumbled out to see Killian going over his old fishing equipment with a frown.

"What are you doing?" Liam asked him, and Killian had paused, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

"I'm taking Henry out fishing… Emma's lad." When Liam continued to stare at him with confusion, Killian sighed and rolled his eyes. "Dave's nephew. He likes fishing, but you know Dave can't be on a boat for more'n ten minutes without getting sick. So I said I'd take the lad instead."

Liam might have written it off as loyalty to a friend once more… except that Killian hadn't described the boy as _Dave's nephew_ until after first calling him _Emma's lad_.

And so Liam began to pay attention.

And found that Emma Swan popped up with increasingly frequency in the tales of his brother's day.

She was the new deputy, working with Dave and Sheriff Graham. She had been adopted by Dave's mother at ten, and had been living in Boston, before coming to Storybrooke to give her son a peaceful life. She was a spitfire, and beautiful (which had been said with a faint blush – when was the last time Killian had _blushed_ ), and he muttered more than once about her _bloody sky high walls_.

For the next two months, Liam heard of Emma Swan over and over again, and watched his brother come alive because of her.

And damn, but he hadn't seen Killian this happy in ages… and he didn't set _out_ to embarrass him.

But he simply couldn't resist it.

And so one day he stopped by the sheriff's office under the claim of searching for Elsa, the ADA. It wasn't entirely unbelievable; he and Elsa had been the midst of a casual flirtation for a few weeks, and she could often be found working with the sheriff and his deputies.

But truly, Liam just wanted to meet the woman that had made his brother _glow_.

"Liam," Dave greeted jovially. "I haven't seen you around."

"Well, that's because you're married, mate. You don't join us at the Rabbit Hole like you once did," Liam replied with a grin, his gaze drifting over Dave's shoulder to land on a blonde in a red leather jacket. "And this must be your sister… Emma Swan, I've heard much about you."

Emma spun around surprised at hearing her name, particularly since she and Liam had never met. He gave her his most charming grin, and thought that he could understand Killian's attraction. Her smile was hesitant and uncertain, but when it reached her eyes, it made her quite lovely.

"Uh.. yeah. But I don't think we've met. I usually remember meeting accented charmers."

"Oh?" Liam looked at her with an amused grin. "Met many of those around these parts?"

"Just o-" Emma cut herself off, and he saw her looking at him closer, her eyes narrowing. "Just one. Killian Jones… and I'm going to take a wild guess and say you two know each other?"

"That obvious, is it?" Liam leaned his hip on her desk and crossed her arms. "As it is, Killian is my little brother. I taught him everything he knows about being an accented charmer."

"Oh really?" and wasn't it interesting, that the guarded look in her eyes was hidden by enthusiasm at his mention of Killian, or that a faint blush rose in her cheeks as she looked down with a small, secretive smile, playing with the corner of a file. "Well, you taught him well."

"Hmmm," Liam replied thoughtfully. He shot a look at Dave, who gave a shrug and rolled his eyes, and clearly he would be of no help. But Liam always had a bit of the devil on his shoulder, and he simply couldn't resist this. "You should have dinner with me tonight."

"What?" Emma replied, utterly shocked, her eyes wide. Liam heard Dave groan behind him, but he ignored that, giving a decisive nod.

"Yes, indeed. You know where Killian lives, right? I'm his roommate. I make spectacular spaghetti. I'll expect you at six. You should bring your lad, too."

The last was called over his shoulder as he headed for the exit.

"Wait," Emma replied, and he heard her scurrying after him. "I can't just… you can't just… look, your brother and I are…"

She trailed off, and Liam turned toward her with a huge grin, because hell if this wasn't as fun as embarrassing Killian.

"My brother and you are?" Liam prompted.

"I… six, you said?"

"On the dot. I'll see you then, Miss Swan!"

He knew that Killian was working late, but that he would be home by seven. So when Emma and Henry arrived right on time, he escorted them in, playing the courteous host to a T. Henry saw Killian's maps – the ones he had stopped drawing after Milah, but picked up once more thanks to Emma – and he went over to them with the enthusiasm of the young.

"Look," Emma murmured as they both watched Henry inspect the maps. "I should have said it earlier, but your brother and I are… _something_. I don't know what, but I know that it's good."

"I'm perfectly aware that you and Killian are _something_ , Emma," Liam replied with a smirk. "Why do you think I invited you over?"

"Not for any of the usual reasons, clearly," Emma replied, but her shoulders relaxed, and a smile curved her lips.

"Of course not. I invited you because we keep all the photo albums here."

Dinner passed quite pleasantly, and afterwards Henry distracted himself with the Xbox Killian kept on hand, while Liam introduced Emma to the Jones family photo albums.

And that's how Killian found them when he walked through the door shortly after seven.

"It was a long bloody day tod – Emma."

The gobsmacked look on Killian's face when he saw Emma made Liam grin. The panic that took over when he realized what they were looking at made him laugh outright.

"Liam, you _didn't_ ," Killian growled.

"He really did," Emma replied, but the smile on her lips made Killian's anger almost immediately dissipate, replaced instead by the look of a lovestruck puppy. "I have to admit… you made an adorable Captain Hook in your sixth grade play."

Liam took a step back as Killian turned red with embarrassment, but Emma stepped up to him. The way his brother's entire face softened in his presence served to cement what dinner had made him quite certain of.

Emma Swan was the best thing that could have happened to his brother.

"Want to go for some ice cream, Lad?" he asked Henry. The boy looked at his mother over his shoulder, a thoughtful expression on his face. She and Killian were in their own little world, and Henry finally grinned at Liam.

"Sure… the rocky road here is the best."

They headed for the door and were halfway down the street in companionable silence before the boy spoke again.

"So… how long until I can call you Uncle Liam?"

The boys impish grin had Liam bursting into laughter.


	6. Adrenaline Junkie

**Adrenaline Junkie**

It was purely an accident on his part the first time. Well, sort of.

He knew he was angering the Queen, it was only that he just couldn't bring himself to _care_. So he poked and prodded and mocked until even a saint would have lost their temper, and a saint Regina had never been.

Even so, the fireball made him shout in surprise and he was braced for a fiery impact that never came. Slowly, he opened his eyes one at time, only to discover that he was no longer standing in front of Regina as he had been, but was instead next to Granny behind the counter. He looked down at the elderly woman in confusion, and she gave him a shrug and pointed at the door.

"Your girlfriend, to the rescue."

And there she is, in full Dark Swan regalia, looking down her nose at Regina as though the other woman is no more than a bug beneath her boot.

"Not very savior-like behaviour," Emma mused in the silken tone she used more often than not in the wake of her change. "I would be disappointed, except we both know what I think of your sad little attempts to be me."

The words made Regina bare her teeth in anger, but Emma had already moved on, her long legged strides taking her towards Killian.

"As much as I love to observe the emotional destruction of you all in my absence, I'm rather fond of your pretty face" - she ran a hand down his cheek - "do try to keep it whole, won't you?"

She disappeared, leaving Killian to swallow and look at Regina, who returned his glance with a narrow-eyed look of her own. That had been the only time Emma had come to them, rather than one of them calling her, and Killian knew the Queen was trying to calculate how best to use this new information.

Killian, on the other hand, already had a plan.

It was time to embrace a little danger.

He took a deep breath outside the door of the diner. He could see the elderly Lucas inside, chatting with Robin and his boy, a smile crinkling the skin around her eyes.

He knew that smile was about to disappear. It was unfortunate… but desperate times...

He opened the door and entered, walking purposefully toward the counter.

"Ah, Jones," Robin greeted with a raised brow that said there was more to come. "Regina told me an interesting story about you."

"Ah… she did, did she?" Killian looked away with a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm afraid our personalities often clash, and I'd had a bit too much rum."

A lie, of course. 300 years, and it took more than the flask he carried with him to get him drunk now. But Robin needn't know that, and Killian needed to move the conversation on. He glanced at Granny out of the corner of his eye as she handed Roland a piece of pie and ruffled his hair with a fond smile. That smile became no less fond, but far more exasperated when she turned to look at him.

"Picking fights with the Evil Queen?" she asked. "Is that _really_ how you want to spend your days?"

"I like to live dangerously, Lady Lucas" - Killian's words were half distracted as he looked at the special board. "Speaking of which... _Lasagna_ \- would you look at-"

He let out a yelp as Granny reached out and pinched his ear, his hand coming up to cover it as her hand dropped back to the counter.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" he demanded, glaring at the woman who looked back with raised brows and an unimpressed expression.

"I wasn't born yesterday, Captain. And do try to remember that I'm the only place in town that accepts your gold instead of making you exchange it. Now, would you like to take another shot at talking?"

Killian heaved a sigh, and gave her a sheepish nod and a grin that had that fond but exasperated expression crossing her face once more.

"A grilled cheese, if you wouldn't mind?"

She nodded and turned to head towards the order window, pausing at the last minute.

"Onion rings?" she asked, looking over her shoulder, and Killian hated the sympathy he saw in her eye, because Emma wasn't _dead_ she was just… just…

"No, thank you," he replied stonily, looking away.

When Granny brought him his order, it was with a pat to the hand and a smile that said she understood why he had been tempted to start a fight earlier, even if she had stopped it before he had begun.

"Maybe you should say that a little louder, _Pirate_."

Killian bit back a smart comment because really? A Merry Man sneering about pirates when he was a _thief_? There had to be irony in there somewhere. It took him a moment and another swallow of rum before he decided he didn't much feel like biting back smart comments anymore.

"And when was the last time you paid a bar tab, _mate._ You are aware that just because a grocery store has a lot of food, that doesn't make the owner rich. I may be a pirate, but at least I've no pretences on the subject."

Several men were gathered around Killian now, fire in their eyes and alcohol in their veins and Killian just chuckled and raised his glass. "To the merry looters!"

The first blow missed entirely as Killian ducked to the side, but he realized quickly enough that what the merry men lacked in drunken hand eye coordination they more than made up for with enthusiasm. Not to mention numbers, and Killian soon found himself outnumbered and overwhelmed. The big one pulled back his fist and prepared to use it to rearrange Killian's face-

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

The man holding Killian, Little John, though there was nothing _little_ about the man, froze. For a moment, Killian thought it was due to fear, but then he realized it was literally because the bandit _couldn't_ move.

"Now Swan, you're ruining a man's fun, interfering," he told her with a cheeky grin, and he wasn't sure if she realized it, but her lips curled with amusement as well.

"Really? Because it seemed more like you were trying to ruin that pretty face of yours again. _When I specifically told you not to_."

"Sorry Love, but it really did have to be said."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't have much going for you, Hook, try not to ruin what you do have." Emma looked at him with a considering gaze, and then whirled around to the rest of the bar. "Let it be known, the next person that tries to harm the pirate in anger will be… _dealt with_. By me. Do spread the word."

She disappeared once more, a column of smoke covering her body. Once it dispersed, Little John fell to his knees with a wheeze, hands running over his body to check that it was whole. Killian rolled his eyes but offered his hand and hauled the man to his feet.

It appeared he would have to be more creative.

"Trust me Leroy. It's a thing in this world. Henry showed me a video on the moving picture box."

Grumpy didn't look particularly convinced, but who was he to turn up his nose at an opportunity to try to run over Hook with a car and pay off his tab at Granny's at the same time.

"This better be worth it. The whole tab, you promised."

"All you have to do is drive that vessel, and on my honor, your debt shall be wiped clean."

"If your girlfriend kills me, my brothers will kill you."

"Irony of the threat aside, it will be fine. As long as it's going fast enough. Don't slow down."

They decided to use Emma's bug for the stunt, and they both drove out to near the town line in search of a stretch of straight road.

It was not the first time Killian had been hit by one of these contraptions, but at this point he found himself more and more confident that Emma Swan, Dark One though she may be, had no intention of letting him come to harm. The headlights of the car sped towards him and he made no move to jump simply looking up and yelling "Any minute now, lass!"

The moment before the car collided his world shifted and he found himself over the water. Literally, over the water. A thick rope was bound around his torso and he was hanging from … the bow of his ship?

"Swan?" he called.

"You do not take instruction well."

"Never really been a talent of mine," he replied, craning his neck to try to see behind him. "Come on, luv, if we're going to do this again you might come out here with me?"

"Am I going to have to leave you tied up here all the time to keep you from trying to get yourself killed in… albeit amusing ways."

"Tell me why it matters to you?" he asked, still fighting with the knots.

There was a gust of smoke and Killian's shoulders sank. It was going to be a really long night. He muttered a curse under his breath and tried to wiggle the bonds loose, but in going dark, Emma had clearly learned a control over her powers that hadn't previously existed. The ropes didn't budge. He let himself hang for a while, wondering exactly how long Swan would leave him before she decided mercy was in store and he was beginning to wonder if hypothermia might be in his future when he heard the sound of boots on the deck of the ship.

"Hook?"

He almost let out a whoop of relief at the Prince's voice, but instead just let his shoulders slump with relief for a moment before he called out.

"Over here, Mate!"

A moment later, Dave was looking down at him, amusement written on his features as he leaned casually against the side of the Jolly.

"You look comfortable."

"Oh, yes, exceedingly so," Killian deadpanned in return, making Dave chuckle. He leaned down and began to cut the ropes, catching Killian's hands when they came loose and hauling him back onto the deck.

"Leroy told us that the two of you decided to… what was it? _Car jumping_? You're lucky Emma didn't turn _all_ the dwarves to stone for that."

"She said that no one could harm me in anger… it was a mere experiment."

Dave let out an incredulous snort, but his expression turned serious as he crossed his arms and looked at Killian.

"We all want her back, Jones," he said at last, his voice soft. "But what is this? What do you think it will achieve?"

"You don't see it, mate. For a second, just a split second, she fears for me. Every time. And in that second? She's Emma. Not the Dark One, just Emma."

The two men leaned on the side of the ship and looked out over the water. The night was quiet, except for the sound of water lapping at the side of the hull.

"Leroy told us what the two of you did," Dave said at last, looking at Killian out of the corner of his eye. "But it was Emma that told me where you were. She cloaked it in mockery of course, but still. So… I won't tell you to stop. But please, try and be careful?"

Killian lived for those moments, when the true Emma Swan came through, but he respected Dave too much to make promises he would not keep. Killian gave a hum that the prince might have taken for agreement, but that really wasn't an answer at all.

It was his last effort.

He stepped out onto the roof of the library and took a moment to look up at the sky. He could pick out the constellations he'd learned, thanks to the books Belle had lent him. But he took another moment to miss the ones he had learned from Liam back home.

He had continued with his foolish attempts to draw Emma to him, only to find himself poofed to safety without a word. She would not even let him see her anymore and he wondered if she'd overheard his comment to Dave. Regardless, he had come to realize that he needed to "up his game" as he had heard Henry say.

Thus his presence on the roof.

"Emma Swan!" he called out, taking a hesitant step across the roof. Once he was certain of his balance, he began to walk to the edge. "Emma Swan!"

He stepped up to the very edge and looked down. It was higher than he had realized, and he swallowed, wondering if this was foolishness or courage.

"Emma Swan!"

He waited, his voice echoing in the silence, but she never appeared. He knew that when he fell, she would save him. But the questions was - would this be enough to earn him a conversation?

Only one way to find out.

Killian gulped in a breath and let himself fall. He wasn't sure how close he came to the ground, before he felt the world rearrange itself, and he stumbled sideways into the wall of the library.

"You know, it would save me hours, if I were to simply end you myself." He looked at her and waited for what came next. "Why do you keep doing this?"

"It's the only time I know you'll come," he admitted, stepping toward her. She looked at him with her coolly untouchable expression, but he reached out anyway, running a finger down her cheek. "You've been... absent, Emma."

"I've been busy."

She turned from him and began to walk away. He closed his eyes in pain, except that when he opened them again she was still there and looking back at him.

"Not going to disappear, this time? You've grown awfully fond of those dramatic exits of yours."

"I…" she paused, and looked ahead, out across the street, before she looked back and held out her hand. "My evening is free."

It was hardly a promise of coming back to him, but Killian twined his fingers with hers, and for the first time, the echoes of the woman he loved remained in the Dark One's features for more than just the moment his life was in danger.

He would take it.


	7. Chasing in the Dark

**Chasing in the Dark**

He was being a fool.

Killian _knew_ that. Everything that had happened in Camelot, everything that had happened _before_ Camelot… he wasn't surprised that Emma had lost to the darkness, not like her parents were. Everyone has a breaking point, and that his Swan hadn't reached hers ages ago?

It was a testament to her strength.

But the fact was, Emma was dark now. A dark and twisted version of the woman he loved, and he _shouldn't be there_.

He watched black smoke swirl and then solidify into the blonde he had fallen so in love with. Her dress hugged all her curves, and the heels she wore made her hips sway as she walked toward him. Killian swallowed, his tongue suddenly thick in his mouth, because this might not be _his_ Emma… but it is still Emma, and he's helpless against her, even at her darkest.

"You came," she noted, halting a few feet away from him.

"You requested that I do," Killian replied, and his voice broke on the words, making him grimace and clear his throat. "I'm not going to abandon you now, Emma."

She quirked her head, her eyes contemplating him. They're still the green he fell so in love with, but shadows seem to dance behind them, turning that gaze from the clear one that always saw through him to something far more… dangerous.

"I thought my parents might be keeping your leash tight, but no. They trust you now, don't they?" She closed the gap between them, hips swaying, and grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him down until their foreheads nearly touch. It's second nature, for his hand and his hook to come up, to rest at the dip of her hips. "I wonder if they're right to put that trust in you."

She leaned forehead, her lips brushing against his, and Killian let her kiss him. He angled his head, let the kiss deepen, because he has _missed_ this. He has missed _her_.

But there's a coldness to the kiss, underlying the passion that usually heats the air between them, and it was a stark reminder that _this_ Emma? She's one who has been overtaken by darkness. One that feels a dark possessiveness over their town, who won't stop at murder to keep it safe from anything she views as a threat.

Killian broke the kiss and let his hands fall limply to his sides. She's still holding his lapels, but the dark invitation has gone from her eyes, replaced instead by frustration.

"You love me," she said, her grip tightening.

"Aye, Lass," he replied, his hand coming up to brush some of the tendrils that managed to escape her severe bun away from her face. It was one of his biggest regrets, that he didn't get to say those words to her before the darkness took her. That's he's only been able to say them to the Dark Swan, as she's taken to calling herself. "You know I do."

"Then why do you always push me away?" She leaned in, and Killian stiffens, but she just runs her nose along the v of his shirt, before she leans into his neck, and then begins to pepper his skin with kisses. He swallowed again, because for all that she might call herself the Dark Swan, if he were to close his eyes and pull her close, she would _feel_ like Emma.

But Killian spent over 200 years closing his eyes and ignoring the darkness that became a part of him. And he won't do the same now, not with Emma. Her very carefully removed her grip from his lapels, and took a step back.

"You asked us to find you, Emma, to bring you back. And I won't ignore that request."

"I am _right_ here," frustration rose in her eyes, all but eliminating any hint of green, and leaving behind dark, angry black. "You brought me home already!"

"No," Killian replied. "Not yet."

He leaned forward, so his forehead rested against hers, and grasped her hand, resting it over his heart. It's a mirror, of what she had done to him before letting the darkness take her that night in Storybrooke.

"I love you," he said, and the fingers of her hand clutch the skin over his chest.

"If you love me, then _love me_ ," she hissed in return.

"If I thought for a moment that was what you needed… what you truly _wanted_ … that _this_ was what you truly wanted, I would give it to you Emma. In a heartbeat. But I know you better than that."

For a moment he saw green again, and hope flared – bright and strong – in his chest at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he was getting through to her.

Then the hand clutching his chest became a claw, and Killian let out a surprised grunt of pain, stumbling back and falling to his knees. When he looked at Emma, all hints of green were gone once more, and it was the Dark Swan that looked down at him, his heart in her palm.

"I don't need you to be by conscience, Captain," she said, her voice a cool, seductive purr. "I need you to be my help mate. On your feet."

Against his will, he got to his feet, and stared at the glowing red heart in her hand.

"Emma, don't do this," he said, a plea in his voice. This… God, he had always thought he would forgive her anything, but this?

"Don't worry, Killian," she said, reaching out to brush her hand along his face. "You won't even know anything is wrong. But while I might have fallen in love with Killian Jones… what I need is Captain Hook."

Killian closed his eyes in pain at the words, but even then, it felt as though he could feel Emma's fingers stroking the heart. She bent down, and whispered into its red depths, and though Killian couldn't hear the words, he could _feel_ them echo throughout his whole body.

When he opened his eyes once more, they were as dark as Emma's, all hints of ocean blue seeming to have disappeared. Emma considered him, and Hook gave her a wicked smirk, reaching out with his hook to tug her into his chest by the black fabric of her dress.

His kiss was dark and claiming, and when he finally released her, she gasped for breath and looked at him with wide, intrigued eyes.

"Oh, yes," she murmured, hand stroking the skin of his chest. "Yes… this is _exactly_ what I needed. Come, Captain. We have work to do."


	8. Don't Look Back

**Don't Look Back**

When he awakes, the world spins and he feels as though he might be sick. He rolls to his side, retching, though nothing actually comes up.

He's vaguely aware of a scrambling sound, and then hands carefully smoothing his back.

"Easy there, Little Brother," a warm, familiar voice murmurs. It's a voice Killian hears almost nightly in his dreams, and so it doesn't matter that it's been well over a century, the answering response comes so easily.

" _Younger_ brother," he grits out, and then he freezes. His stomach his more settled, though the quick spin he makes to look behind him probably isn't one of his better choices. But Killian doesn't matter.

 _He knows that voice._

 _He knows this face._

It's haunted him for so long, but in those nightmares he always looks wan and grey. But now, Liam looks so very _alive_. Vital and healthy, and he grins at Killian, and it's the same grin he would give every time he asked if his _little brother_ was ready for their next adventure.

"Liam," he gasps out, and lunges forward. Liam catches him in his arms with a laugh, and they're hugging and slapping one another's back, and Killian can't remember being this happy since… since…

 _"Swan, welcome back."_

 _She throws herself into his arms, pressing kisses onto his skin, and Killian can't stop smiling, because he had never given up on getting her back… but seeing her there, being unable to touch her, had been so damn_ hard _._

 _"I love you," she chants. "I love you. I love you."_

 _"Aye, Lass, I know," he replies, and she pulls back, her eyes firing, but Killian just laughs again – too full of joy to hold it in – and presses a searing kiss to her lips. When they pull apart, she is flushed and panting, and so is he, but he finally,_ finally _, says the words that have been on the tip of his tongue for so long. "I love you too."_

The memory dampens Killian's joy somewhat, and he releases his brother, troubled. Because Liam is _dead_. Liam is dead, and Killian's last memory is of holding Emma, but now he's in unfamiliar territory, and there is _Liam_ , and suddenly, this doesn't seem like such a joyous reunion.

"Am I dead?" he asks his brother softly, his heart breaking at the thought that he's left his Swan behind, after swearing so many times that he's difficult to kill. The question wipes the joy from Liam's smile as well, turning it bittersweet.

"Not exactly. Not yet. We'll get you out of this, Little Brother."

" _Younger brother_ ," Killian reminds him again, and Liam's answering laugh is enough to distract Killian from his brother's choice of words.

Liam had said they would get Killian out this… but he hadn't said anything about himself.

He's gotten to spend so much time with his brother, and when Emma finds him, there's a sort of sadness to it, even as there's a sense of amusement.

Only Emma would dare hold a sword on the Lord of the Underworld himself and make him take her to save his boyfriend.

"I hope there's no hard feelings. You know how it is, a man's gotta do his job," Hades says as Killian catches Emma in his arms, and tips her over in a dramatic kiss that actually inspires a low whistle from Liam.

"Let us go, and I'll forget all about it," Emma tells him, and there's a darkness in her eyes that Killian knows is a remnant of the Dark One, so he reaches out and strokes her cheek, and the light comes back to her eyes, and she frames his face with her hands, tugs his head down to rest their foreheads against each other. After a moment, they break apart, and Emma grins at Liam over his shoulder. "You must be the brother."

"How did you know?" Killian asks her, and Emma nudges him with her elbow.

"You have the same eyes. I'm-"

"Emma Swan," Liam says, before Emma can get her name out. "At least, I hope you're Emma. Considering that my Little Brother-"

"- _Younger brother."_

"- couldn't shut up about you. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan."

Liam gives a gallant bow, and kisses Emma's hand. Killian rolls his eyes, but it's clear that Emma is charmed.

"I see the charm is a family thing. Well, let's get out of here!"

She turns away, missing the way the happiness falls from Liam's smile. But Killian doesn't miss it, and when Hades begins to chuckle, he knows this isn't going to be good for any of them.

"Did you think it would be that easy, Savior?" the God asks with a dark smirk. "You can take your pirate, but the sailor? His soul is _mine_ … so now Lover Boy has a choice to make."

"A choice?" Killian asks faintly, as Emma looks at him with concern.

"A choice… you can walk out of here, knowing that your brother gets to stay with _me_ … and I really _do_ hate to lose, Killian. Or, you can stay. And we forget all about your girlfriend's prison break attempt."

Emma lets out an angry curse and steps toward Hades, but it's Liam that steps forward and stops her, even as his gaze remains on a frozen Killian.

"You have to go, Brother," Liam says seriously, releasing Emma when she realizes that her attention needs to be on her boyfriend, not Hades. "I will be fine."

"But… you'll be alone," Killian replies quietly, though his gaze moves over to Emma, and he's filled with such _longing_. She's so beautiful, his Swan with her avenging angel habits, and he takes a step towards him before stopping, and looking at Liam, the brother taken far too soon.

 _I'd follow you anywhere…_

As though he's read Killian's thoughts, Liam reaches out, clasping his hands on Killian's shoulders.

"You made that centuries and another lifetime ago, Killian," he says, his smile sad, his gaze level. "You've grown into your own man. A _good_ man. I don't expect you to follow me anymore" – he shoots a gaze over Killian's shoulder, to where Emma watches the brothers talk – "and really, you have something far more appealing to follow now. _So follow her_."

He spins Killian, pushes him towards Emma, and Killian stumbles to her, takes her hand, and makes to turn back…

Only to be stopped by Hades.

"Turn back, and you stay. Don't you know how this works?" the God asks, his smirk cruel and dark, filled with the bitterness of losing a soul like Killian's.

"Emma…" Killian begins, and he hates the tremor in his voice. He hasn't felt this unsure since he was a lad, freshly abandoned by his father.

"Keep your eyes on me, Killian," Emma says, her hand going to his cheeks again. "I know this is hard. I know how much you love him… but he wants you to live. So please, _please_ just keep your eyes on me."

Killian does, his blue gaze locked on Emma's green, and step by step, they make for the exit. He hears Liam's voice, almost turns back, but Emma's voice draws him back.

"It's a trick, Killian. Liam isn't here anymore."

So they walk, and it seems like they walk forever, until Liam's please for him not leave threaten to drive him mad –

And then they step into sunlight. Killian blinks at the sudden brightness and looks around. They stand in the forest outside Storybrooke. He looks back, and it's to see Hades in the gate to the Underworld. He looks at them for a moment, hatred burning in his gaze, and then he slams that gate shut.

And Killian falls to his knees. Even knowing they weren't real, the sound of Liam pleading him to stay echoes in his mind.

Emma kneels next to him and holds him, and murmurs how very sorry she is.

Killian is sorry, too. He had thought himself immune to this grief, but now it feels almost crushing, as though he'll never make it through.

So Emma presses a kiss to his lips, and he relaxes into her hold. He knows there will still be more grief, but as the kiss takes an almost desperate turn, and she lets him drown in her, he thinks that with her help, he might be able to make it through.


	9. Hope For the Hopeless

_**Hope for the Hopeless**_

She runs her fingers down her mother's cheek and smirk's when Snow flinches away with a gasp of shock at what her daughter has become. Emma is pleased by that reaction, pleased that there is a spark of fear in Snow White's eyes. Her mother _should_ be afraid of her. Emma has plans… oh so many plans.

She almost laughs in Regina's face when the woman threatens her, only to come up short when she realizes that _Emma_ holds the dagger. That _Emma_ holds the power. Regina had been powerful once as well, but she fell victim to that foolish whisper that brings so many to their knees.

 _Love_.

It's a joke, of course. Emma knows that now. Love is just a pretty term used to excuse the worst of actions. It's a human creation, an excuse for weakness. It's a weakness she no longer has.

 _Desire_ , on the other hand.

Desire is Emma's closes friend.

Desire for vengeance, desire for power, desire for…

She moves past Regina, telling everyone in the diner of her plans for punishment, but she isn't really focused on _everyone_ anymore. No, her eyes are all for _him_.

Killian.

She comes to a halt in front of him, feels a shiver of that all too familiar desire in her belly. He looks at her, eyes hazed with confusion. She does lo – _like_ his eyes. The color of a stormy sea.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks her, his fingers clenched, and she knows that he wants to reach out and touch her. She wishes he would. She does lo – _like_ this touch.

"Because I am the Dark One," she replies simply, but the words… oh, they aren't so simple. They're a declaration.

 _The savior is dead… now there is only me._

They are the perfect exit line, and Emma means to use them as such. Except that at the last moment, she reaches out and cups his cheek instead. Her grip is unbreakable, meant to bruise as much as caress, and when she disappears from the diner, she takes him with her.

They reappear in the Sorcerer's manor, because Emma is hardly going to retreat to the loft, no matter how amusing it might be to lock her parents out of their own home.

"Swan?" Killian asks. He stumbles slightly as she releases her hold on his cheek, the teleportation spell leaving his balance off kilter. "Where are we?"

Emma doesn't respond. Instead she moves away from him, opening the door of the ballroom, where she had once almost walked willingly to her own destruction. How stupid she had been, to fear the power that runs through her veins. She hears Killian follow her and turns as he pauses within the ballroom doorway. She sees the recognition in his eyes now, and approaches him with a smirk.

"You recognize it now, don't you? It must have been right outside this place, that Gold took your heart" – she rests her hand over the spot where the organ beats, and she sees his pulse jump in his throat. She's not sure if it's because of her closeness, or because she has clawed her fingers, as though ready to reach into his chest. She doesn't care, fear or lust, either emotions pleases her, and she goes on tip toes to press her lips in a caress along his jaw – "it was just outside this place that your crocodile very nearly took you from me."

She looks at her hand, and a hazy glow surrounds it, as though shadows have covered her usually bright powers. The glow passes to his chest, and for a moment it remains there before dissipating.

"What did you do?" he asks, his own hand coming up to cover hers when she makes to move it away. For a moment, the action makes her anger flare hot and bright, but then it cools almost as quickly. She doesn't think he even knows what he's doing, but she does. His desperation for her touch is as powerful as ever.

"No one gets your heart," she states, running her free hand up into his hair and tugging him down so their lips are a breath apart, "but _me_."

She closes that distance between them, claims his lips in a kiss that is passionate and demanding, and as though it's instinct, his hook comes to cradle her waist, to pull her even closer, their bodies pressed flush together. He always tastes like rum, and Emma revels in it.

And then he tears himself away.

" _No_ ," he says, stumbling back away from her. His back slams into the wall of the hall outside the ballroom, and Emma follows him, holding carefully to the anger that rises in reaction. He had done this before… when…

It makes her hands clench, that his reaction is still so similar to what it had been in Camelot, when she first revealed herself to him, first whispered in his ear all of her plans.

And then he had _ruined_ them, running to the others to betray her.

" _No_?" she asks softly, and she holds up her hand, beckoning him with her fingers. She sees him try to resist the tug and pull, but at the end of the day, he is still in love with her, still doesn't have the strength to truly resist being near to her, and the magical assistance…

Well, he never stood a chance.

"I grow weary of you telling me _no_ ," she purrs, running her fingers along the lapel of his jacket. She so enjoys the way he leaves his shirt unbuttoned, showing off silver chains and chest that she wants to dig her nails into as he digs… well, other appendages into _her_. "What happened to the pirate, _Hook_? The one that simply took what he wanted."

"Even the pirate had a code, Swan," he replies, turning his face away from her hand when she would have stroked it, his jaw tight and expression rebellious.

"And here I thought your only code was _a man who doesn't fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets_ ," she replied, stepping back from him and releasing him from her spell. His shoulders slump forward, and Emma holds her arms out. "Well here I am, pirate. So why aren't you taking me?"

"Because you're not what I want," he replies, and the words make Emma freeze, because of all the things he could have said, that was never in the realm of possibilities.

"Oh, so all those sweet words you whispered to me in Camelot were lies?" she asks mockingly, looking from him, because she thinks she might have felt a stab of pain at his words, somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.

It should be impossible. She's steeled her heart to such emotion… yet the pang was there.

"I want _Emma_ ," Killian says instead, and Emma feels the warm heat of him at her back. "I want my _Swan_. And Dark One or not" – he spins her with his hook on her wrist, and though she could have easily prevented it, she finds herself whirling instead – "I know she's in there somewhere. Emma wouldn't simply give up."

"I _am_ Emma," she hisses, and she flinches back from him when he reaches for her with his hand, shoves him away from her with his magic. "And if you can't see that… then you're a _fool_. A weak, _pathetic_ fool, unable to fight for what he wants. So, I suppose you'll deserve what you get. Just like the others."

Killian has gotten back to his feet, and they stand there, engaged in a staring war across the hall.

"I'll fight for her," he says at last, his eyes narrowing. He hesitates for a moment, takes a step towards her, and Emma feels her spine stiffen. "I'll fight for _you_."

"You'll get yourself killed," she sneers in return, but it doesn't get the reaction she wants. Instead of anger or hurt, he just smirks.

"I'm difficult to kill, remember?" he asks her, and then brings his hand to his chest. "And you've made me even more so."

"I told you, only _I_ get your heart-"

"Aye, because you care. I know you, Emma, and you never would have done it if you didn't care. So if the savior is to be the Dark One, then I'll simply have to be the Dark One's Savior."

"Stay out of my way, _Hook_ ," is all she says. "If you're not with me, then you're with them. And that's the end of it."

"No lass, it isn-"

Emma waves her hand, sending him back to Granny's before he can finish the word. Once he's gone, she slumps against the wall and stares blankly across the hall and into the ballroom. She flicks her fingers, and flames begin to rise, spreading rapidly with her channeled emotions.

By the time she walks out of the manor, the smoke has covered the moon, and the eerie glow of flames lights the night. Emma watches it for a while longer, but no matter how much she tries, she can't rid of the ball that has formed in her chest.

She wants it extinguished, along with everything it stands for, but his words echo in her mind –

 _So if the savior is to be the Dark One, then I'll simply have to be the Dark One's Savior_.

And that ball grows a little stronger, echoes of the Emma Swan of times past clutching to it, as though the power it holds can somehow force her back into the mold of Savior – that mantle that she _hates_ , but that some foolish part of that she wants gone wishes to hold onto.

So she curses that part of her, and she curses Killian for giving it strength, and she curses that little ball in her chest, that annoying, _foolish_ sentiment that can only go by one name.

 _Hope_.


	10. Imprint

**Imprint**

It all began because he fed the damn things.

It hadn't been planned by any means. A storm had come through causing a mess at the docks, and three hours into cleaning up the Jolly he'd decided to break and have one of the sandwiches that Snow White had made for him. It warmed his heart, that Emma's mother had thought to make him a sandwich, just as she had Emma and the prince. While the two of them had rolled their eyes at Snow's attempts at "making them eat healthier," Killian had accepted his with nary a complaint.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had cared enough to ensure he ate well.

So he had found a comfortable spot on the docks and dug into the ham sandwich. It had been when he was down to the crusts that they had appeared – six tiny ducklings, their feathers yellow and downy. He hadn't thought a thing of it, when he broke the crusts off, tossing them out to the ducklings.

He had been back on the Jolly for a good fifteen minutes, working on uncoiling some rope, when a tiny downy body had come up next to him.

It had been with utter confusion and befuddlement that he'd looked down and seen one of the ducklings settling on the wood next to him. It looked up at him with tiny black eyes and gave a little quack. As though this were some sort signal, its five siblings come waddling out around him, all giving little quacks and attempting to climb into his lap.

Killian blinks and sits there utterly confused for a moment, until one of the ducks nudges his hand until it can snuggle underneath it.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, getting to his feet and stepping over the ducklings, careful not to step on any of them.

He isn't sure what' happening, but he does know that the Jolly is no place for ducklings.

He has a plastic container below deck, a remnant from some of Snow White's baking that Emma had brought to him. He pauses for a moment, grinning foolishly down at the plastic. It had been chocolate banana muffins, and he and Swan had sat on the deck of the ship and shared several of them, along with sips of rum, under the stars and wrapped up together in a blanket.

The taste of Emma and banana and rum is a fond memory that makes him lick his lips, as though the taste of it is still there.

Then he hears a tiny quack, and there is a duckling at his feet again, so he sighs and shakes his head and carefully picks the little bird up and places it in the container.

Twenty minutes and two escapes later, he has all the duckling in the plastic container and is carefully navigating down to the docks. He comes up short when he sees Emma walking toward him.

"I missed you today," she said with that shy smile of hers, the one that speaks of all her uncertainty, yet makes his heart swell because she's still _trying_. "Managed to get the boat cleaned up?"

"Ship, Swan," Killian corrects, and he knows that his return smile probably makes him look like a pathetic sap, but he can't help it. Every time he sees her, all he can think is how much he _loves_ her, and then he recalls a kiss that had been magic – literally – and remembers that she loves him too.

True Love – the big one.

"Ship, whatever – and what is _that_ , Killian?"

It takes him a moment to comprehend her words, because the sound of his name in her voice still distracts him to no end, but when he does, he looks down at the plastic container and the duckling looking up at him, and he scratches behind his ear with his hook.

"They followed me onto the Jolly," he admits somewhat sheepishly. "I was bringing them down, to set them free."

"They're kind of adorable, aren't they?" Emma asks, leaning down so she can look closer at the ducklings. One of them wanders closer and they engage in a brief staring war before Emma chuckles and smiles at him. "I'll hold the container while you put them back in the water."

In quick order, they release the little birds back into the water. Killian straightens from his kneeling position and Emma is standing there with a look of such affection on her face that he can't stop himself from hooking his hook into one of her belt loops and tugging her in close. Once she's in his arms, he presses his lips to hers and proceeds to utterly kiss the breath out of her.

When they break apart, both breathing heavily, her hands threaded into his hair, her eyes are a bit hazy and her smile is almost goofy.

"Hi," she says.

"Hello, Swan," he replies with a chuckle that has her lips twisting ruefully. She tugs his hair, and he happily lets her pull him into another kiss.

They pass several moments like that, until he feels a weight on the leather of his boot. He would simply ignore it, except that the weight is followed by a tiny quack.

They break apart, both of them looking down.

Tiny black eyes stare back.

Soon, they're joined by five more sets, the ducklings gathering on his boots, quacking away and cuddling as close as possible. Killian doesn't know what to say at first, a several seconds pass in silence.

Then Emma gives a giggle, the one she lets out when she's made his hook disappear and he gives her his most long-suffering look. He loves that giggle, even if it's usually due to amusement at his expense.

He looks at her with raised brows, and she shrugs helplessly.

"I think they've imprinted on you."

"Imprinted on me?" Killian repeats blankly. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means they think you're their mother," Emma replies. She kneels down with the plastic container, and herds the ducklings into it, before standing once more and holding it out to him. He takes it with a scowl and he knows she wants to giggle again, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

The sight makes him lean in to catch her lips with another kiss that's quickly interrupted by indignant noises from the ducklings between them.

"We're supposed to go to the loft for dinner," Emma says after a moment, and Killian holds the ducklings up.

"Wonderful, but what am I supposed to do with these?"

They end up taking them with them. Snow coos over them, and Dave laughs.

And laughs.

And laughs.

"It's not that funny," Killian informs the howling prince, who can't manage to get words out between his laughter.

"It's a little funny," Emma says, leaning on the couch behind her father.

"It's… a… _lot_ … funny," the prince manages to force out. He seems to calm for a moment, but then one of the ducklings comes to rests on Killian's foot – their favorite spot – and that sets Dave off once more. "Mama duck!"

He wonders if it would be frowned upon, knocking the prince out. But then Henry joins them and bends down to pick up the duckling.

"Come on, Pops. They're cute. Look at the little guy" – and he places the duckling into his grandfather's lap, halting Dave's laughter. So it's Killian's turn to laugh instead, at the look of surprise the prince wears as the duckling looks up at him – "I think he likes you."

Of course, both Snow and Henry are adamant that they can just abandon the ducklings. So Killian finds himself with six tiny followers for the next several months. They cause mayhem on his ship, but Killian has come to learn that mayhem will be part of his life, particularly being the true love of the savior, and he finds that he doesn't mind the mayhem of ducklings quite as much as he would have once.

Henry and Robin's boy, Roland, name them, and it's not long before they've been accepted as a part of Storybrooke life.

Even Granny, after several glares, allows them in the diner. Admittedly, it takes several smooth words and more than one occurrence of "batting his baby blues" as Emma describes it.

"I'm just a charming man, Swan," he informs her, and she chuckles. So of course he has to show her exactly how charming he can be.

They had to learn to close the door to their bedroom after a particularly awkward moment when Killian had been mid… ah… _thrust_ , only for him to suddenly look into curious, beady little duckling eyes. They're not interrupted this time, however, the ducklings enclosed firmly out of the room.

It's good that they are. Or they would have gotten an education no duckling needed to have.

But the ducklings grew out of being ducklings, and it's one day that Henry and Roland come to the Jolly searching them out that Killian has to give them the sad news.

"They had to leave, boys."

Henry understands of course. At fourteen, he's long ago learned about migration. But Roland is all sad, wide eyes and questions about "why?" Killian takes most of that afternoon to explain it.

"I think I'll miss them," Emma admits as they put away all the supplies they'd had for the ducks. "I never thought I'd say _that_ … but I'm going to miss half a dozen ducks." She looks at him contemplatively. "Are you going to be okay?"

"They were ducks, Swan. I knew they couldn't stay," Killian replies, although there is a tiny part of him that is a little… not sad, but… "I think I'll miss them too. A little."

"Oh, don't worry mama duck," Emma teases softly, her eyes saying that it's simply her way of cheering him up. "I'm sure they'll be fine."

"I'll show you a mama duck," he growls, happily letting her distract him and swooping her up in a fierce kiss.

They close the door behind them out of habit, even though Henry is staying at Regina's, and later he opens it and looks down a hall that seems oddly empty.

Dammit… he will _not_ get maudlin over ducks.

Okay, maybe he does get a _little_ maudlin. But even Dave seems to miss them. But after a few months, things go back to as they were, although every now and then someone will tell an anecdote about the ducklings and everyone will chuckle and get a little nostalgic.

Spring comes again, and with it comes storms, and so Killian finds himself on the Jolly almost a year after the duckling first imprinted on him cleaning up another mess.

And then he hears a quack.

Going to the edge of the ship, he looks down to see ducks. He blinks for a moment. There are only four now, but each of them is followed by little ducklings, and when Emma comes to bring him lunch, they sit on the edge of the dock and feed them bread crusts.

"Do you really think they're our ducklings?" she asks as one comes close and nudges her foot.

"You don't?" he asks with a raised brow.

She gives a smile and shrug.

"I'm going to choose to believe they are."

She rests her head on his shoulder and they watch the ducks and their ducklings, and Killian thinks that they have to be their ducklings.

After all, if he's come to call this small Maine town home, then why wouldn't the ducklings as well?


	11. Lie To Me

**Lie To Me**

She held up the sword. It was finally – _finally_ – complete.

There, written on the blade right next to _Emma Swan_ , were the words she'd wanted there since she knew it was possible.

 _Killian Jones._

"What's happening?" he asked, clutching at his chest and staring at the sword with wary eyes. He feels the draw now, just as she does. This sword is no longer just _her_ , it is _them_.

"I made you like me," she replied. "Impervious to those that would harm you… _Immortal_."

She had done what Merlin had been unable to. She had taken the steps to ensure she would never be separated from her love… but more than that, she had ensured they would be _tethered_ in ways that would assure their love would last forever.

"I never asked for that!" he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger, but Emma just reached out to stroke his cheek.

"As cute as this is," Zelena drawled. "I'm guessing that you have no further need of me?"

"You played your part," Emma replied, not bothering to look at the redhead. "You have your protection, as promised. _Now leave_."

" _This_ is what you did this all for?" Killian demanded. "Why, Emma?"

"Because I realized that the only way to ensure our safety was to use this power. To use this _sword_ , and make sure that no one else would ever get it. Now, when we destroy the light, we'll be free of its control together, _forever_."

She tugged him down, pressing a kiss to his lips. The connection from the sword flared at the touch of their lips, and she knew that he felt it too, the compulsion to be as close as possible. But even with the connection, his kiss held pain – she could _taste_ it – and she _hated_ it.

"You'll forgive me," she told him, stepping back. "We'll have eternity now. And someday you'll forgive me."

"You sound so certain," he replied, his expression cool and bitter. "I don't have your same faith."

Emma stepped back and felt her own expression become tight, anger flaring within her. Why didn't he _understand_? She had sacrificed so much, and gotten _nothing_ in return. This was finally her reward; for the lost childhood, the broken hearts. _Finally_ she had the opportunity for happiness, happiness with _him_.

And of course she was going to take it.

Her grip on the sword's hilt tightened, and Killian stiffened, his gaze darting down to the sword.

"You will forgive me," Emma replied. "Someday, of your free will, you'll forgive me. Until then, I'll take the lie."

 _I loved you_. The words that had haunted her since he spoke them. They didn't belong in her happily ever after.

She tugged him down by the collar of his jacket, her breath warm against his ear.

"Tell me what I want to hear, Killian."

She pulled back to look into those blue eyes of his, and his jaw was hard, his throat working frantically. She tightened her grip again, and he jolted once more.

"I love you. No matter what you've done."

His eyes burned as he spoke, but she smiled and stroked his cheek again.

Someday, he would say those words to her and mean them. Someday, he would thank her for this.

Until then, she would take the lie.


	12. Sand

**Sand**

When she first stands before him, she wants to reach out and touch him. She wants to reach out and make sure he's _real_. His expression is so serious, so _hurt_ – the last thing he remembers she had given Merida back her heart and they were hopeful that removing the Dark One was possible.

Her last memory is of the light leaving his eyes, and just the thought makes her want to destroy everything and everyone around them. She wants to burn this town to the ground, with their demands that have proven to have too high a cost.

But she has a plan, and she can't show her hand this early, so she doesn't touch him. And when he asks –

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm the Dark One."

It's the greatest lie she's ever told.

And still she can't stay away from him. She had meant to, but when she hears him – _Don't make me summon you, Swan_ – she can no more resist going to him than she could resist going to Henry. She's convinced herself that they can make this work. Of everyone, he is the one that's always seen _her_ , and if anyone can do that now…

She can't resist the compulsion to touch him, not anymore.

It's a risk, to take him to the home she's claimed, the home where she's keeping all of the secrets of Camelot. Of course he's drawn to Excalibur, hidden away – _the damn sword that started this all_.

When he kisses her, her heart flies, because she didn't think she would ever get this again. The taste of him – wild and salty with a hint of rum and it's just _him_. And this is right, this is the way things can be now… because here, he's alive. Here, he's _hers_.

But he pulls back from her, and the truth comes out. Of course he's been talking to Belle, and of course he would think that true love's kiss would work.

And it would've. She stares at the door where she keeps Excalibur as he storms away, and she thinks that _it would have_ … except that this is all a lie.

Rumple removes Excalibur from the stone for her, because if she wants to make her lie a truth, then she needs the untethered powers of the Darkness. But even as she goes through the motions, even as she looks at _him_ and tries to convince herself he'll understand…

 _I loved you._

Oh, how those words had hurt, so at odds with what he'd told her in Camelot. And she doesn't know, did he say them because they're truth? Or because she's created this reality of lies, and the truth no longer exists.

So when she's close to achieving her aims, she appears before him. His dreamcatcher is clutched in her hands. She doesn't care that it's in the middle of Granny's, that Regina looks ready to attack at any moment.

She is so close to achieving her goals – and she needs him to _understand_. She needs _him_.

The memories make him stumble back, and her father reaches out, catching him by the shoulder to steady him. Blue eyes are tormented when they look at her.

"Emma-"

"Do you understand now?" she asks him. "All magic comes with a price, Killian. Even the magic that should be good."

"The sands," Killian says, looking down at his hands. "None of this is real, Swan."

"It will be," Emma replies, crossing the two steps between them, so she can grab him by his lapels. "It will be. I'll _make it_ real."

"And you'll be completely lost in the process," he reaches out, pushes the strands of hair that have fallen out of her bun behind her ear. "I made my choice, Emma. Would you really take it away from me like that?"

" _Yes_ ," she hisses, her voice filled with desperation. "Yes, because you chose _wrong_."

"What the hell is going on?" Regina demands, but Emma doesn't pay her any attention. It's the man she clinging to who matters right now.

The man who rests his head on hers.

" _Let me go_ ," he breathes out, and Emma shakes her head. Tears are already pooling in her eyes.

"No," she replies. "Nononono."

"Please, Emma," he says, tugging her tighter against him with his arm, so he can rest his chin atop her head. "Anything good I've become began with you. Don't make me be the cause of you losing the good in yourself."

"You're a survivor," she replies, all but choking on the words. " _You promised_ you were a survivor."

She pushes him back, stumbles out of his arms, and fumbles beneath her black coat, for the ring she only wears when she knows it will be completely hidden. He looks at it, and reaches for his own neck, where the chain no longer hangs.

"You remember, right? You remember giving this to me, so I would survive? And because of that, _you didn't_."

"Lass-"

"And what is the point in being _good_ , if it means I lose everything?"

He lets out a bitter laugh and runs a hand through his hair. He looks around at the others in the diner – Granny and the dwarves, her parents and Regina, Robin and Henry and Roland, and Gold and Belle – and then he looks back to her, grief a fresh pain in his eyes.

"You'll be good because it's my dying wish, Swan. Because I lost one woman I loved to the Dark One, and I beg you to not let me die with the knowledge that a second was taken as well, and all because of me."

"And I told you, you're not going to die-"

"I already did!" the words are a ragged burst from his throat, and for a moment he looks like he did when they first met – dark and tortured and utterly lost. "I already did, Swan. And using that dust? Arthur has shown us what happens, when you create a life built out of dust and lies. I died, and now you need to let me go."

"Hook?" David asks, and Killian looks at him.

"It's her secret, Mate. That in order to destroy the darkness, a price had to be paid."

"It should have been _mine_ to pay," Emma snarls, anger at Merlin and Nimue rising in her, because in the end, all of this can be linked back to them… back to them and Merlin's inability to…

 _And Merlin's inability to let his love die._

"You cast the spell, Love. It has to be you to undo it."

"Please don't ask me to do this…"

She's in his arms again, his lips against her forehead, and she clings to him, not willing to let go. She has watched him die twice already… a third will utterly destroy her.

"You have the Lad to think of," he murmurs into her skin. "Henry needs his mother. And this whole town loves you, Emma. You won't be alone."

 _But I won't have you_.

His breath catches, and even though Emma didn't make the conscious choice, she can feel the magics at war within her. The darkness wants her to cling to it, the light is telling her to let go.

And Killian's knees give out, taking both of them to the floor.

She doesn't sob or beg like she did in Camelot. This time, the tears are silent stream, and she strokes his hair that wild light in his eyes dims to nothingness. The battle against darkness had already been fought in Camelot, and with the price newly paid, it disappears with a whimper, but Emma hardly notices.

His life was created by the Sands of Avalon, and without the spell to maintain the illusion, sand is what he becomes. In the end, there is no longer even a body.

There is just Emma and a handful of sand, and that's when she finally lets herself sob again.


	13. Scarf

**Scarf**

He would give himself one night.

He knew that he probably wouldn't be keeping the dagger for long – didn't really _want_ to keep the dagger, only clutching to it still because it was the only physical proof he had that Emma was okay. As long as he could see her name on that dagger, it meant she was alive.

And it taunted him – _200 years, and here you hold the key to the Dark One's death… and it's_ Emma _._

So he sat in her chair in the tiny Sheriff's office, curled in on himself and the dagger, hating it with every inhale, thanking it for proof that Emma lived with every exhale, and swigging rum from his flask in between.

He didn't want to be here, drinking himself into a stupor and staring at the damn magic box Emma used for filing and research. Killian had never been one for wallowing, not if there was an action to be taken, and right now Emma needed to be found. But Regina had declared that nothing could be done tonight, not when they were all exhausted and still recovering from their adventures in the alternate story. So she had taken Robin and Henry off with her, and the Charmings had headed back to the apartment and their son, Dave giving Killian an offer of companionship that he had turned down.

He didn't want to look into Snow White's eyes and see her daughter reflecting back. He didn't want to talk to Dave and think that his damnable courage was just like Swan's, making them both recklessly foolish.

 _Why did you have to be so recklessly foolish_?

The thought is a bitter one, the thought of the jaded Captain Hook, not the Killian Jones he's been slowly regaining with Emma's influence. He pushed it away, but it's not a thought that wants to go away easily, so instead he broods. Because he is _angry_. He knows that it's Emma's way, to sacrifice herself for the entire world… but could part of her not have thought of _him_? He hates himself for even thinking such a selfish thought, but there it is.

He has lost a woman he loved before. Lost her and lost himself with her. It took two hundred years and meeting Emma Swan for him to recover, and Killian isn't foolish enough to believe that he has another two hundred years to recover from this.

Or that there is another Emma Swan to save him again.

He takes another swig from the flask, but his depth perception has gone skewed, and he curses when rum sloshes onto the collar of his leather jacket. He closes the flask and growls under his breath as he reaches for the filing cabinet, searching for something to wipe the alcohol away.

His hand hits cloth, but when he sees what it is he's found, he freezes.

 _The scarf from the beanstalk._

He can vaguely remember seeing it in here before, when he retrieved his hook, but at the time he had been caught up in thoughts of revenge, and had been very determined to _not_ think about Emma Swan. Now he lets the scarf unroll, and runs it between his fingers. Though she would deny it, his Swan is the sentimental type; her box of girlhood memories is proof of that.

This scarf… she wouldn't have kept it, not without a purpose. It's a reminder to him now, that even at his darkest and most villainous, that she had been there and seen _something_ , something that meant she gave him a chance, even if it hadn't been easy.

Later, he'll blame it on the rum, but at the moment it seems a perfectly reasonable thing, to lift the cloth and wind it about his neck. It doesn't fit at all with his modern wear, but just having it around his neck, it makes him feel more settled than he has since _I love you_ , and then she was gone. He closes his eyes for a moment and clutches the cloth, uses it to center himself.

He hears the thunk of the prince's walk, his gait recognizable to Hook after so much time spent together. He opens his eyes in time to see Dave walk into the office.

"I know you said you wanted some time alone… but we were worried," he says, taking a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair across the desk.

"Your wife needs you more than I, mate," Killian replies, though he'll admit that he's a bit touched, that the prince would seek him out.

"Ruby is with her," Dave replies, leaning back with crossed arms. "She was the one that told me to come. I think my worrying was driving her insane."

"We're all worried," Killian replies, and for a second he's back on the street, Emma pressing their foreheads together – _I love you_ – and she's disappearing again.

"Hey," Dave's voice breaks through his musings, drawing his gaze back. "You okay?"

"No," Killian replies honestly, too exhausted to try giving one of his usual charming remarks. And Dave would see through it now, when Killian is still so raw from everything that's happened. "I'm not sure that I will be until we've found her."

They lapse into silence, Killian staring at the flask in his hand, Dave staring at Killian. Finally, the pirate gets to his feet.

"Is your offer for company still on the table? I'll not take you from your wife any longer… but I think I would…"

He trails off, not quite sure how to say that he'd like to feel as though he's closer to Emma, even if it means simply being in the place she calls home. But Dave doesn't need the words. He gives a short nod and gets to his feet.

"Of course. Mary Margaret will feel better anyway, if she knows where we all are. It's…"

It's Dave's turn to trial off, but Killian nods his understanding. Snow White has lost her daughter again and again, and it's beginning to wear even on her generous spirit. No more explanations are needed, and the two men head for the exit, shoulder to shoulder.

"Interesting accessory," Dave says, nodding at Killian scarf, and his hand comes up to clutch it again, this reminder that there's always been something between pirate and Swan, even when said something should have been impossible.

"I think it suits me."

It's a sad attempt at a comeback, and the smile Killian gives is strained and just as sad… but it makes Dave chuckle and pat his shoulder.

"Whatever you say, Pirate."

They exit the station and head for Dave's truck. The prince pauses at the front, and Killian looks at him with raised brows.

"We'll find her, you know," he says at last. "Finding each other… it's what our family does."

 _Our family_ , and Killian doesn't know when he became family, but the world doesn't seem as bleak with those words. A reminder that while he loves Emma, he's not the only one. This won't be another 200 year quest for vengeance spent alone because no one else cared.

Emma has an entire family that loves her.

 _Killian_ has a family, for the first time since Liam.

And Dave is right. They will find her.

 _They will always find her_.


	14. Talisman

**Talisman**

He had been a bit of a scrapper as a youth.

It had just been him and Liam, and Killian had been filled with an unrelenting _rage_ , because their mother was dead, and they hadn't been good enough for their father to stay… and so he had fought. It perhaps could have been explained away as "boys being boys," except Killian never went after the boys his own age.

It was always the older ones. The ones twice his size, who thought the wild orphaned Jones boy was funny when he got mad, right until they discovered that his fists hurt just as much as any boy their own size's. Then they got _angry_ , and always left Killian bloody in the aftermath. But never once did one of those boys walk away unscathed.

"You need discipline," Liam had told him, when a particularly nasty fight had left him nearly unconscious. Killian had managed to stumble his way home before succumbing to darkness, and he had awoken to Liam at his bedside, navy uniform askew, worry in his eyes.

"They were bastards," Killian had responded stubbornly, because the other boys were always bastards to him; cruel and not half as clever as he was.

But the look in Liam's eyes told him this wasn't like every other time. Other times yes he had been. He still had a scar on his cheek, from where one boy had hit him with a rock. But this was the first time he'd ever been beaten to unconsciousness, and something in Liam's gaze told him that this time, he had really gone too far.

"You'll be joining me aboard my ship. I've already gotten my Captain's approval. You'll be the cabin boy. The navy will teach you that using fists won't always win the day. You have a sharp mind, and we'll teach you how to use it."

Part of Killian had been ecstatic at the thought of never having to leave Liam's side, but there was a reason he had never bothered to ask his brother to take him along, and that had him clutching the bed sheets until his knuckles turned white.

"I can't go on the ship," Killian said, his mind already taking him back to _that_ day. The day he awoke, just him and Liam in a tiny boat adrift, and how they had seemed to be there _forever_ before they reached land. Abandoned by their father to the elements. "Liam, the ocean-"

Liam cut him off by ruffling his hair, and then he tugged on a ring that he always wore on his pinky finger. It was silver with a dark stone, and Liam opened Killian's palm, setting it in the middle. He looked at it curiously, turning it over in his fingers and then trying it on his own. It was too big, even for his thumb.

"What's this?" he asked his brother.

"That, Killian, will keep you safe on the ocean. It's protected me for this long, and it will do the same for you."

Killian was still young enough to believe such superstition, and his tiny fist closed around the ring, blue eyes going wide as he looked solemnly at his brother.

"But what about you? What will keep you safe?"

"Well, I suppose you'll have to stay close, won't you? Make sure that nothing happens to me."

The thought of being the one to protect his brother after so long being protected made Killian's chest swell. He could do that. To keep Liam safe, he would even face the _ocean_.

"I'll never leave your side."

They were the words that echoed in his mind as he watched Liam's body fall into the ocean. He gulped back the anguish that wanted to come out as the water consumed the body, and the chain around his neck felt as though it burned.

He had kept his promise. He had never left his brother's side. But he hadn't been able to prevent anything from happening to him.

Killian reached up and clutched at the ring – silver with a dark stone – and though he'd worn it every day since Liam had given it to him, it had been years since he'd thought on it.

Now it felt like a weight around his neck.

 _It's protected me for this long, and it will do the same for you._

Killian was no longer a boy to believe in such superstition, yet still the guilt nearly made his knees buckle. Because some part of him was still that little boy that believed him brother invincible, yet Killian had taken the token that made him so.

Killian had taken Liam's protection, and so had taken his life.

The guilt threatened to consume him, but despite the fine veneer he had worn, the one that made him appear the perfect Lieutenant, at his heart Killian was still that scrapper of a boy.

So he had taken grief and turned it to rage, and he had made sure that the Jewel became the Jolly and spat in the face of the man that had sent Liam to his death. He became the scourge of the kingdom he had called home.

And if the chain around his neck sometimes threatened to strangle him in the dark of night, Killian never told a soul.

Not even Milah.

At first he hadn't wanted to seem the fool when she looked at him with such worship in her eyes. Later, he just hadn't been able to tell her of the secret grief deep within his soul.

And then she was dead, and the chain seemed to gain more weight.

He couldn't save her, and once again he survived while one he loved didn't.

He had stood on the deck of the Jolly one night and hell the chain and it's bedamned ring over the ocean with every intent to drop it into the lagoon. But the Crocodile still lived, and Killian – now Captain Hook – pulled it back and put it back over his head.

It's weight would be a constant reminder of what he had lost, and what he had yet to do. And he wouldn't be relieved of that weight until he could avenge the souls of the ones he had lost.

For two hundred years, he carried the burden.

And then he met _her_.

Oh, what a tale theirs was to tell. Full of betrayal and longing and loss, and after he finally, _finally_ , thought they could have a happy ending, she had sacrificed herself to darkness.

Two hundred years he had been a survivor, the weight around his neck a constant survivor of that, but when she kissed him, he knew that this time… this time surviving wasn't enough.

So he pulled the chain from his neck, with its two hundred years of protection and grief, and when he pressed it into her palm, for the first time it feels as light as the simple ring it is.

She told him she was immortal, but he of all people knew there was no such thing.

"The Dark One is. Emma Swan isn't. Bring her home to me," he told her.

He had worn that necklace with its ring and its guilt for centuries, alternating between hating it and clinging to it for the memories it bore. But when she smiled at him and kissed him, for the first time since he was a boy afraid of the ocean he hoped it truly was the talisman that his brother had told him it was.

And Killian was still that scrapper that would fight the impossible fight, even a fated Hero King, to make sure that the ring's chain never held the same weight for her that it had for him.


	15. The Long Way Down

**The Long Way Down**

In the end, it's sheer desperation that drives him to it.

Emma is… Emma has been…

He's going through hell, because Emma is right _there_. He can see her, can touch her… can hear her whispering insidious words in his ear, and all he can think is how much he loves her, how much he wants her back.

Because in the end, it might be Emma, but it's _not_. Because Emma would never do the things this Dark Swan is doing. His Swan – she's better than that.

And here's the thing, the others are running around wildly searching for some magical cure all, but Killian's come to believe such a thing doesn't exist. The only magical source of information would be Merlin, and they're no closer to finding him than they were when Swan took all their memories. So Killian is _done_ with relying on magic.

He's moved onto desperation.

The street below looks much further than he had realized, when he had looked up at the roof of the library and gotten this idea. He takes a deep breath and steps up onto the ledge.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice is sharp and startles him, very nearly sending him tumbling to the cement below. He catches himself and looks over his shoulder, and there is Emma – pale and cold and oh so distant… only she doesn't look that distant. Not with her hand stretched out and something that might be fear in eyes that are usually so very remote.

"Hello, Emma," Killian greets in return, another deep inhale to calm his racing heart over his near fall.

"Hook, _what are you doing_?" her voice is far more demanding, expression remote again as she lets her hand fall limply to her side. But there's still a rigidity to her stance, that says she might not be as uncaring as she appears.

"I'm taking in the view, Emma. Quite lovely, isn't it?"

"That's twice you called me Emma in under five minutes" – her steps are slow, but she joins him at the ledge, though she doesn't step onto it as he is – "why?"

"Because you don't like it," Killian replies simply, and her eyes flash as her gaze shoots to him, and he gives her a smirk and a shrug. "Perhaps I'm dreaming, but I like to believe it's because it makes you uncomfortable. You want so desperately to be the Dark Swan, but still all I see is Emma."

"There's nothing desperate about me," Emma replies with a sneer, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks at the view again. "This, on the other hand? Whatever this is all but _reeks_ of desperation."

"And so it should. I'm a desperate man, Sw- Emma."

"Stop calling me that and step away from the ledge, Hook. We both know you're not going to jump."

"Do we?" he raises a brow at her, and she raises her chin and looks down her nose at him.

"Yes, _we do_ ," she replies in the low, silken tone that she's taken to using when she wants to get a rise out of, or hurt someone. But it doesn't work on Killian. No, Emma can't hurt him anymore than she has simply by becoming the Dark One and saying those oh so painful words – _you failed_.

"Funny," Killian replies, and he inches closer to the edge. "Because I'm not so sure."

He tenses and goes up on the balls of his feet just slightly, and Emma reaches out, grasping his wrist, and he feels a jolt at the contact, because it's been too long, since she touched him like this – a touch not meant to manipulate, but instead one done in innocence, without thought to how it might benefit her.

It's over almost instantly, as she recoils violently, her hand clenching in a fist that she holds over her chest, cradling it with her other hand and staring at him with wide eyes.

"Well, that's a good sign," he tells her with a grin that has her brow furrowing. "Overtaken by darkness, at least the spark is still there. Do you think it will hurt much?"

"Don't be an idiot, Hook," Emma snaps back, her lips curving into a scowl, and Killian takes that as a victory. Because it's not blankness, or cold amusement – it's genuine emotion, and God, but her anger makes her look more like the Emma he fell in love with than she's looked in weeks.

"Ah, but haven't you heard, Emma? I _am_ an idiot. Maybe you'll save me."

"Is that what this is about?" Emma demands. "Risking your own life to see if I care enough to save it? You're not the selfless Martyr type, Hook."

Killian sighs, because there is the Dark Swan again – cold and remote, and he wishes he could see the violent anger in her eyes again, because at least _that_ was real.

"Well, Emma… it's been wonderful."

Killian closes his eyes, takes a step back, and gambles everything on the mere hope of… well, _hope_.

And as wind streams through his hair and his body becomes weightless, hurtling toward the street below, he thinks that he gambled it all and lost.

But his body never hits concrete.

He opens his eyes after a moment, to find that he's frozen in the air, mere feet from the ground. He tries to move and finds that his limbs are frozen. In a puff of grey smoke, Emma appears, looking at him with that anger back in her eyes, her hands clenched into fists.

" _You idiot_ ," she hisses. "What if I hadn't been quick enough? What if I had _missed_? You could have died!"

"Ah, Emma, I've never known you to fail," he smirks up at her, and her eyes narrow in return, her jaw clenching, and God if she doesn't look utterly beautiful. She's no longer the untouchable Dark Swan, but instead the Emma Swan that held a knife to his throat because her super power told her he lied. "I believe in you."

"Maybe you shouldn't," she replies, a growl in her voice. She stares at him for a moment longer, and then the anger drains from her expression, and a tiny smile curves her lips, and her eyes… Killian's breath catches, because he wasn't sure he would ever see that look in her eyes again, but he is, and it's _love_. "Just, don't do it again. I might not be around to catch you."

And with those words, her expression becomes remote once more, and she disappears a second later, leaving Killian to fall those final feet to the cement with a painful thump that sends the breath out of his lungs. But it's far less painful than it would have been, had she not caught him.

He manages to struggle to his feet, the pain in his back telling him that he'll have a huge bruise for his troubles come morning… but he can't find it in himself to care. Perhaps she _is_ the Dark Swan, but Emma is still in there, and though he knows there is still a long ways to go before he saves her, he can at least be certain that she _can_ be saved.

After all, darkness cannot love… and he _knows_ that's what he saw in her eyes.

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End file.
